


Trop Sucré

by GloriousGoblinQueen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriousGoblinQueen/pseuds/GloriousGoblinQueen
Summary: After a hard performance, Yevgeni finally gets to relax with his lover, Lucas.





	Trop Sucré

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



Yevgeni is so worn out by his performance that Lucas practically has to drag him back to their shared tent. It’s no small feat given Lucas’ slighter frame, but he manages. They stumble in through the opening in their tent, Yevgeni leaning stiffly against his lover, and Lucas eases him down onto the larger cot before heading back to securely close the tent flap. This time of night, the other performers are either already back in their own tents or too focused on getting there to bother them. Still, he doesn’t want to take any chances with passersby seeing something they shouldn’t.

Lucas looks back at his partner. “Yevgeni the Strongman”, as he’s billed by the circus, is lying exhausted on their cot, looking half asleep already. The cot, more like a low-set bed, is technically Yevgeni’s, and if anyone outside the circus asks, that’s what they’ll both say. Truthfully, they haven’t felt the need to sleep in separate beds since about a year into their relationship. Five years on and it doesn’t look like that will change anytime soon. Lucas’ own cot tends to get used as extra seating or a landing pad for whatever he happens to toss that way. He does try, though, to remember to make it look slept in depending on how private their quarters will be in a given town.

He ambles over to Yevgeni and gently shakes him, not wanting him to actually fall asleep. “Yevgeni,” he calls softly. “Don’t fall asleep yet, or you’ll be stiff as a board in the morning.”

Yevgeni groans but wakes up most of the way. He watches Lucas go turn on the kerosene lantern that serves as the only lighting in their tent. It sits on a small table not much higher than the cots, so Lucas has to bend over a little to light it. The lamp flares to life and illuminates the whole tent before Lucas turns it down. From where he’s lying, he can see Lucas is still wearing his clown costume, a loose-fitting, shimmery white jumpsuit with blue accents. Lucas’ face is still painted, the white pigment contrasting against his tanned skin. The sight warms Yevgeni’s heart so much he’s almost embarrassed.

Lucas turns away from the lamp to find Yevgeni staring at him with that familiar lovesick look on his face. He’s not entirely sure Yevgeni’s aware of it. Of course, he’s got no room to talk, given the way he looks at Yevgeni at times. Lucas makes a face at him, pursing his lips (painted red) and widening his already large eyes, and Yevgeni turns his head away laughing. He loves making people laugh for a living, but there’s something special about bringing a smile to Yevgeni’s face.

Lucas drags Yevgeni up, gently cajoling him to follow. “Come on,” he says, feeling the resistance put up by his partner’s sluggish body. “I know you’re tired, but the sooner we get washed up, the sooner you can get back to bed.”

The blonde strongman looks up tiredly into his lover’s eyes. “We have to go out to the showers?” he asks, his Russian accent made thicker by the tiredness.

Lucas looks at him with sympathy. Truth be told, he doesn't much feel like going all the way to the lake where the shower stalls are set up, either. The walk isn't all that far, just roughly a minute going at a moderate pace, but it's been a long evening and there are other things he'd rather be doing (to Yevgeni) right now. He thinks about their predicament for a bit before coming to a solution.

Several minutes later, Lucas has nicked wash basins from two of the tent stalls by the lake and brought them back to their tent. Yevgeni watches him potter around heating kettles of lakewater two at a time on the portable stoves from his chest. Watching Lucas pull things out of his chest is like seeing a magician perform; the exact contents are subject to change depending on whether he sees something interesting in a tour city to take with him, or if he's grown tired of one of his trinkets.

By the time Lucas gets both steel basins filled to an adequate level, Yevgeni is on his way back to sleep again. Lucas gets after him and pulls him over to the basins.

"There," Lucas says. "If you clean up like a good boy, I'll give you something good afterwards." He looks Yevgeni right in the eye when he says this, and chuckles when it works.

The wash tubs are just big enough where Lucas can sit down, but Yevgeni has to stand up in his. Most of Lucas' work goes into scrubbing the makeup off his face (he's only made the mistake of sleeping in it once, early in his career, and he's never done it again). Yevgeni has to wash off the sweat from his earlier performance, and every so often Lucas takes a good peek at him from behind his washcloth when he thinks the other man isn't looking. He savors the view, watching suds and water sluice down the hard lines of Yevgeni's body. Yevgeni's skin glimmers in the low light of the kerosene lamp, and Lucas is so entranced that his own distracted movements taper off entirely. It suddenly occurs to him that five years ago, when Yevgeni had just stepped onto the scene and Lucas himself had only been with the circus for a year, you couldn't have paid him to oggle Yevgeni so brazenly. He'd thought the oddly quiet man to be something of a brute, and though it came out that Yevgeni was simply homesick for Russia and not entirely confident in his French, Lucas had still had reservations.

What a difference a few years can make. Here he sits now, having given up on seriously washing for the time being, free to appreciate his lover's form in the privacy of their tent. The world at large may spit on their love, but Lucas is relieved to not have to hide anything from Yevgeni any longer.

After he's had his fill, he resumes scrubbing off his white makeup and what little sweat he worked up prancing around like a fool before his audience. The minutes go by in near silence, the only sound being the quiet splashing of bathwater and the ambient nightlife by the lake.

After drying off, Yevgeni settles back on his bed, not bothering with covering up. The tent flap is closed, letting anyone who might still be up know not to just barge in. Even if someone did manage to get in, his bed's not in direct sight anyways. Lucas, on the other hand, he wonders about. As much as he enjoys the view of Lucas stooping down stark naked to rifle through his chest of wares, he really hopes no one tries to burst in suddenly. This time of night, that's highly unlikely to happen but experience has made him cautious. Not _too_ cautious though; his eyes are glued to the tantalizing sight of Lucas' lean back and shoulders. Though Lucas isn’t built nearly as large as he is, there’s still a good deal of strength in that lithe frame.

Lucas finds what he's looking for, a round bottle of oil, and sets it down on top of one of the burners. He relights it and turns it down low, only wanting to warm the oil. While he waits, he's keenly aware of Yevgeni's eyes on him. It's hard to resist the urge to preen for his lover, but he does tilt his head, exposing his neck. Yevgeni seems to have a "thing" for this part of him (among others). He checks the bottle every so often, and when he deems it warmed enough he plucks it off the burner, making sure to snuff out the flame. He stops in the middle of the tent, looking around for someplace to set the bottle down, before catching sight of Yevgeni's makeshift night table. It's really a wooden crate stood on one end, but it'll do.

Yevgeni has an even better view now that Lucas is standing right by his bed. His eyes dart to the bottle of oil briefly before honing in on the area between Lucas' thighs. "Are you going to give me that 'something good' now?" he asks.

Lucas huffs out a quiet laugh. "I'm surprised you remember what I said, you looked so close to passing out earlier."

"Something about the way you said it made me not want to forget." Yevgeni shrugs, and it turns into a languid stretch against the sheets. It feels good to stretch his tired muscles after working so hard to put on a good show for the audience, even if it does hurt a little. He gestures with his head to the bottle on his night table. "Is that what the oil is for?"

"Yes it is," Lucas replies. "Now, turn over for me." He nudges Yevgeni's shoulder, and the larger man groans in token protest before rolling himself over so he's face-down. Lucas lets his eyes linger on the chiseled planes of Yevgeni's back, his ass, and his thighs before picking up the oil bottle. He unstoppers it, and drizzles a little onto Yevgeni's back, taking care not to make a mess.

The sensation of the warm oil hitting his back makes Yevgeni sigh and gets him excited. He hadn't even thought to ask for a massage, but now he realizes he's in desperate need of one. Something to ease the ache that's settled into his overworked muscles. It's even better when Lucas lays hands on him, first to spread the oil out, then to start massaging him. The touch is light at first, Lucas' fingertips pressing gently into the flesh of his shoulders and doing the same all over his back. The gentle pressing is meant as a warmup, and Yevgeni can feel himself relaxing. Lucas gradually presses into him harder and harder, like he's trying to slowly squeeze all the hurt out, and Yevgeni loves it. He's thankful Lucas knows just the right combination of rough and tender to make him feel good.

Suddenly, Lucas takes his hands off him. Yevgeni can sense him moving away, but the warmth of the oil and the warmth in his muscles keep him from feeling any draft. He takes a deep breath, and is hit with a scent that reminds him of something. He realizes he's been smelling it just about since Lucas had started working on him, but hadn't put much thought to it at the time. "There is something in the oil. Is it cloves?" he asks.

Lucas sounds a little distracted when he replies in the affirmative. Just when enough time passes that Yevgeni doesn't expect any further answer, Lucas speaks again. "The oil's been infused with cloves. Apparently, it's popular back in the city in Morocco where my mother grew up." He pours out more oil onto Yevgeni's skin and goes back to work, this time on Yevgeni's lower body.

Yevgeni’s thankful that Lucas seems to be focusing his efforts on the backs of his thighs, his buttocks, and his lower back, since that’s where he needs it the most. He can feel his cock hardening even as the rest of him relaxes, but he puts it to the back of his mind. He’s so close to dozing off right then, anything else takes a backseat.

He must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing he’s aware of is Lucas lightly slapping his hip. Having just woken up, he’s not the most cooperative or coordinated, so Lucas has to guide him to turn over so he’s face-up.

Lucas pins Yevgeni’s hands near his head. “Keep them there,” he says, his voice brooking no argument. Yevgeni complies, holding his hands in place as if they’re actually restrained. He stares up at Lucas with equal parts surprise and adoration in his eyes.

When Lucas is sure his lover won’t move, he climbs up and eases slowly into a sitting position on Yevgeni’s stomach, making sure he drags his hands down the man’s body on the way. He lifts himself up and shifts back a little further, just enough to feel the slightest brush of Yevgeni’s thick cock against his perineum. He holds himself up and rocks his hips around a few times, delicately teasing the head of Yevgeni’s cock.

Then, he looks Yevgeni dead in the eye and seats himself firmly on his lover’s pelvis, securing the cock beneath him firmly against his body.

The oil he’d smeared between his legs earlier eases the way. Lucas grinds himself against Yevgeni, over and over, loving the hot, slick pulsing against his body. “I figured this part of you needed to relax, too,” he says. He’s a little breathless, but nowhere close to losing control. His eyes hone in on Yevgeni’s large hands clenching into fists, still pinned near his head obediently.

Yevgeni knows better than to try and take control; he doesn’t even have an interest in it. He's more than happy to let Lucas ride him, the slick rubbing of their bodies against each other sending heat coursing through him. He’s entranced by the fire in Lucas’ eyes, the slight furrow in his brow he’s probably not aware of. Lucas’ lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyelids are dropped low in his focus, and Yevgeni wants to kiss him badly. He groans in pleasure and frustration, arching his head back against his pillow and keeping his hands off like a good boy.

Lucas can feel Yevgeni’s thighs start to tighten underneath him. He puts his hands on Yevgeni’s chest for better leverage and begins riding him like a horse, nearly bouncing in his lover’s lap. He’s rapidly losing control over himself, but that’s fine, he welcomes it, knowing Yevgeni is so close to the edge.

Suddenly, Yevgeni shuts his eyes tight, and arches against the bed. His whole body tightens in one long, tight line when he comes, the waves of pleasure shooting through him. He’s dimly aware that he’s shaking, but can do nothing for it, just lie back and ride it out.

Lucas slows his movements to a stop to watch Yevgeni’s show of rapture. He’s riveted by the blissed-out look on his lover’s face, the bright flush covering his chest and neck that’s visible even in the low light of their tent. What’s especially fascinating is how hard Yevgeni came; his spend covers him in thick tracks from his belly practically to his chin.

Several long moments pass in which Lucas holds himself still, distracted by the sight of Yevgeni coming down from his climax, yet bursting at the seams with his own need. Every so often he idly squeezes his thighs against Yevgeni’s hips, trying to take the edge off. Then, whatever spell he’s under gets broken when Yevgeni reaches a hand up behind him to stroke the lower part of his back, right above his ass. The hand presses firmly against him, coaxing him forward.

Lucas leans down and lays himself full-body against Yevgeni, wanting as much of their bodies as possible to touch. He presses a cheek to Yevgeni's warm throat, turning his head just so to lay a kiss there, before rocking his hips again.

It doesn't take Lucas long to come, and he's noisy when he does. Loud, breathy moans are barely muffled against Yevgeni's throat, and he shakes hard head to toe, gripping the sheets like his life depends on it. As his awareness slowly returns, he can feel Yevgeni's hand gently stroking his back.

After cleaning himself and Yevgeni up and turning off the kerosene lamp, Lucas stumbles tiredly back to Yevgeni's bed and practically falls on top of him. He hugs up against Yevgeni's side like some deep-sea creature and presses his face against a shoulder, sighing in contentment.

“Are you feeling better?” Lucas asks quietly.

Despite almost drifting off completely, Yevgeni hears him. “Yes,” he answers, moving his arm so he can stroke Lucas's warm back again. “You always take good care of me, Lucas.”


End file.
